


I Come to You Only When in Need

by ninhursag



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Alien/Human Relationships, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Idiots in Love, Impact Play, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Nebulous well adjusted future, Porn with Feelings, Tactile Telekinesis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-15
Updated: 2020-02-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:54:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22743574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninhursag/pseuds/ninhursag
Summary: Five little Michael/Alex ficlets from Tumblr smut prompts. Some very mild dom/sub themes in some of them.Enjoy!1. Kneeling2. Misuse of telekinesis3. Semi-public4. Impact play5. Possession/fear
Relationships: Michael Guerin/Alex Manes
Comments: 10
Kudos: 60





	1. kneeling

There's a sense of inevitability to Alex Manes. Ticking clock, counting down the seconds, inexorable. Push and he comes back with a fist. Michael's seen it plenty, in high school, in bar fights that Michael starts and Alex finishes. The physical manifestation of sharp knuckles, bloody noses and bruised eyes. Never felt it, those fists are for the world, not for him. Alex never touches him with anything like violence.

Why bother, when he can take Michael down with just his voice and his perfect eyebrows, the compressed lines of his mouth. He never even needs to touch.

When he touches though…

Now. 

He's touching the keyboard of his laptop with careful, clever hands. He's not looking at all at where Michael is on his hands and knees next to him, dressed in a worn out t-shirt and nothing else, bare ass hanging out and accessible.

Alex's foot is the only naked part of him and that's the part resting on Michael's back, warm, toes curled up a little. 

_"Let me finish this," Alex told him when they started, cool and easy, eyes on the screen, "and I'll finish you off. Make me stop and…"_

_"I won't walk for a week?" Michael had offered, curling his mouth into a smirk, even though Alex wasn't looking at him._

_Alex smiled anyway. "Nope. You will walk exactly as much as I tell you to. Your choice."_

On his hands and knees, dick throbbing wet against his bare belly, Michael considers his choices.


	2. I don’t care what you do, just fuck me.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don’t care what you do, just fuck me.

Michael used his powers carelessly, once Alex knew, like he’d always been hoping to just let them go. It was mostly a comfortable, casual thing, catching a mug before it hit tile and floating it back into Alex’s hand, all the coffee pouring itself safely back in. Closing and locking a door, grabbing a towel.

He didn’t touch Alex’s skin with them. Not at first.

Not until one time, the time Alex hadn’t adjusted his prosthetic right, hadn’t accounted for his fucked up balance, hadn’t-- had almost-- Michael caught him before he took a nosedive into a particularly sharp looking car carcass. Not with his hands.

It was-- it was-- where Michael’s hands ran hot, strong and firm, the touch of power on Alex’s skin was cool enough to leave goosebumps. Just as gentle, careful in a way that he would have clocked for Michael even if he hadn’t known exactly what it was. No one else had that particular combination of tenderness and thoroughness, not in Alex’s experience. 

There he was, on his feet, breathing a little too hard, and Michael, Michael was watching him. The touch of power still caressing his skin, bringing up goosebumps.

That was the first time. But after that he couldn't stop thinking about it.

The idea had an inevitability to it. Of course if your boyfriend was a telekinetic alien, you were going to end up using that for sex, right? What kind of idiot wouldn't?

Alex didn't even have to ask, didn't have to practice his words, to come out with a way to get Michael to-- Michael just saw him watching. Watching Michael move things with his mind, images of what else could be moving…

He licked his lower lip, shivering.

And Michael smiled, slow as honey, eyes golden in the sunlight, as if mind reading were his power after all. 

"Yeah?" He crooned, syrup smooth. "You look so hungry, Alex. Bet I could feed you real good.'

And Alex swallowed and nodded, head bobbing, dick showing some interest. Too much. "Yeah. Just. I don't care. Just fuck me with it."

And Michael laughed, sharp and tender, no meanness in it. "That would be my absolute pleasure, sweetheart."

And from there it was just a timeskip to Alex, spread out bareass naked on the bed of Michael's truck, hands held down, thighs held apart, mouth free to scream out how it felt.

"I could do anything to you," Michael whispered, from where he was crouched just out of touching range. His power though, that was everywhere, pulling on Alex's hands, touching his skin, raising the soft hairs on the back of his neck, pressing against his mouth, his dick, the cleft of his ass and then down inside .

No lube needed, he was eased open by nothing human. Fucked gently, slowly, inexorably without mercy, by pressure and air, until he sobbed with it, gasping and begging with nothing he could grip onto.

"Please," he heard his own voice, hoarse and choking. "Please. I need. Need."

"Need what, baby?" Michael whispered, suddenly close enough to feel the hot prickle of his breath against the merciless cold of his power.

"You," Alex hissed. Lips parted, back arched. 

He came when Michael grabbed his face between two hot not quite human hands and kissed him, still caught and taken, deeper and deeper.


	3. How do I look?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Exhibitionism (sort of)

"How do I look?" Alex asked, smiling and shady, with that glint of wickedness to him. He had on painted on jeans, a red t-shirt that hugged the muscle of his shoulders. His dark eyes were lined with black, emphasizing the shape.

Michael leaned back against the bar, arms folded, cowboy hat tipped down, giving Alex an appraising up and down. "Like you should be sitting on my lap?" He offered, grinning at the two raised eyebrows he got in response.

Instead of an insult shot back, Alex grinned. "How about you lock the door with your brain first?"

Michael was the one whose eyebrows lifted then, but he hadn't been raised to argue that kind of suggestion. The doors slammed shut and the locks clicked emphatically closed and he really hoped Maria didn't decide to show up.

Well anyway. He found himself pushed into a chair with a lap full of Alex Manes straddling him for balance.

"Want to hear something interesting?" Alex whispered into Michael's mouth.

"What's that?" Michael murmured back, letting his arms get pushed down.

"I'm all lubed up and ready for a ride." 

Michael almost choked on his own double take before coming back swinging. "Oh yeah?" he managed. "I might just be the ride you're looking for."

And Alex's laughter, warm against him, was almost the best part.


	4. Not by anyone who liked me as much as you do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oblique references to child abuse. Spanking.

There's a handprint glowing on Alex's bare skin, right above his heart. The shape of familiar fingers, splayed out and resting against him.

In his mind, he can feel Michael. Steady and reassuring, wild and excited, chaos shoving away calm, dancing with chaos. It isn't the first time they'd connected this way, but it was the first time for something like this. 

Michael grins at him, naked and hopeful, almost vibrating with his own internal energy. His hands are twitching, twisting. "How do you want me?"

Michael's expressive eyes, the warm press of his mind, that made it possible at all.

"Hands and knees," Alex says, smiling back, helpless. "Don't distract me or you won't be walking right for a week."

Michael's laughter is bright. "You may be overestimating your strength, sweetheart," he croons all tease, even as he gets down as ordered. Hands and knees, a pretty picture on their bed, tanned skin on clean white sheets.

His ass looks warm and golden as the rest of him and Alex really wants to stroke down the line of it. The curve and the muscle and skin. The soft press of his balls hanging between his legs. Rough curl of the hair there such a contrast to the softer curls on his head. He can almost taste it on his tongue.

Michael is hard already. Alex isn't. Yet. Not like he would be if this was going to be about taste.

No belts, had been the deal. No tools at all, just the weight of Alex's open hand, skin on skin, on the meat of Michael's bare ass. That hadn't been something that-- he'd never been hit like this so--

"Have you?" He'd asked Michael, more than once even after they'd agreed to it, Michael who brushed it off with a faint smile.

"Sure. But not by anyone who liked me as much as you do." Then he shrugged. "It's not the same thing at all."

"What is it?"

"It's just… sensation, you know? You and me and one more thing I can feel instead of thinking. Quiets the chaos."

So here they are, Michael naked under Alex's hands, knees a little spread, exposing all the most vulnerable parts of himself. And Alex is supposed to hit him there where he's most open and…

The thought pushed through their link, the brush of minds and the, mental whisper of 'no, sweetheart, no,' because Michael wants it, Alex can feel how much he wants the crack of palm on flesh and the way it could blossom into pure burning sensation.

But not if it hurts Alex. Not if it reminded him… Michael would never want...

But this was… those eyes, whiskey warm, honey shot through with green, Michael licking his lips, already shifting up to stop the game to… no.

"No, I can do this," Alex says and finds that it's true. "This is. You're right, it's not the same at all."

There's a pause and he surges forward, his shirt buttons scraping against Michael's bare skin, diving into a kiss. It's tender and slow and Michael opens up so easy until they're both panting.

And Alex can do this. Resting on his knees, with Michael spread out in front of him. One hand back, and then the crack of his palm against beautiful, beloved skin.

The sound that Michael makes then, half shout, half moan, the way his spine goes taut and his mind stops spinning.

Alex does it again. Harder now. Enough to leave a mark, just for a second before it fades. Red palm, his own handprint burning on Michael's ass. Human hands. He shows it, pushing the image through the link.

Michael whines beautifully, his body arched and liquid and everything else is silence until Alex does it again.


	5. Tell me again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Tell me again, Guerin? Really explain it to me so I can understand."

Alex's lashes had a wicked tilt to them, at an angle with his chin. The lines of his mouth were unyielding, serious. "Tell me again, Guerin? Really explain it to me so I can understand."

Michael let his eyes slide closed. His hands were clenched in the pockets of his worn out jeans and he wasn't sure if he wanted to slink off like a kid about to getting a whipping or lean into Alex's annoyance. "I don't get why you're pissed. No one got hurt. We got the data."

"No one got hurt?" Alex repeated with punctuated disbelief. "You have a handprint on you from where Max healed you and there's still bruising."

Michael shrugged evenly. "Yeah. He healed me. Exactly. So what's the problem?"

Alex just gave a snort and a sharp headshake. "My problem is you. You getting fucking-- they beat you and stuck a knife in you."

"I got better," Michael offered, still confused.

Alex glared, refusing to be distracted or even smile. "This isn't a game. What if Max hadn't been there?" 

"He was. Why are we still talking about this?"

That actually earned a laugh, a harsh one. Alex laughed like it hurt and he didn't understand why. Or maybe Michael didn't understand.

"I should take away your powers, and chain you to the bed in my bunker where no one else can even see you," Alex hissed. "I should…. Damnit. Guerin. Michael. I can't lose you."

Michael stopped, rocked back on his heels. "I-" he swallowed. "If you're looking for a kinky sex slave, this is a really weird way to bring it up?" 

Alex's face was so beautiful in its anger and its… something else, unknowable. "You're an idiot," he mumbled and then the anger seemed to drain out of him, leaving him greyer, eyes wet.

And that-- Michael hated to see that. He swung closer. "It's ok," he said. "Look, cockroaches and trailer trash are going to survive any shit. Your don't need to--"

"Shut the fuck up, I don't want to tell you again," Alex spat. And then he was the one who closed the last bit of distance and pulled Michael in close, into a kiss that was too too gentle to match his words.

**Author's Note:**

> Come talk to me on Tumblr @ninswhimsy


End file.
